Teach Me to Run Again
by NakuruAngel
Summary: Sulu saves Chekov from being nearly raped, but can the Ensign return to his normal self? Can Sulu stand to remain his friend while Chekov struggles to cope? Sulu//Chekov, angst all around.
1. Chapter 1

It is a fantastic day when Sulu gets to spend shore leave with his favorite Russian navigator. Today, as it happened, was just that sort of day. They were in orbit around a relatively peaceful planet that was undergoing political problems of some variety, and as the nearest Star Fleet vessel, it was Captain Kirk's job to intervene. With nothing for his crew to do, shore leave was granted for any off-duty personnel, and Sulu did not waste time asking Chekov to come with him on their next break.

"I vould luff to!" the ensign replied enthusiastically, and Sulu loved the way the boy's eyes positively _glittered _in the light. He smiled and put a hand on the Russian's shoulder, softly, before removing it and returning to work.

Later, Sulu would mull over that smile, wanting nothing more than to bring it back.

Looking back, the Asian could say confidently that his relationship with Pavel Chekov had grown remarkably, starting with the day he had been saved along with the captain from certain death. The two routinely spent their breaks together, the best of friends wherever they went. Touches that had started out accidental always looked purposeful now; the way their fingers brushed while working, the arms thrown around each other when one was upset or excited, the way they stood unnecessarily close. Sulu felt it would naturally grow into what he knew was, on his part, unconditional love, and the way their relationship had progressed eased his fear of rejection to a whisper. Chekov was his last thought every night, and his first every morning, and he would not change this.

"Ready?"

In the elevator they found Uhura and Scotty, both also on break.

"I heard about a good bar not too far from where we'll be beaming down," she said, and it was agreed that everyone would follow her there. Chekov let a smile sit on his lips, doe eyes bright and excited, and Sulu felt his stomach warm.

The planet they were on reminded Sulu of New York City—full of traffic, pollution, and tourists. The inhabitants didn't use cars and the group had to push through the closely-aligned bodies walking down the streets to make it to their destination: a bright, neon-clad bar where every breath was two parts oxygen, two parts smoke. Sulu regarded it skeptically, suddenly feeling incredibly protective over the younger boy whose body heat radiated beside him.

"Is this it?" he asked, but Uhura just shrugged and walked inside—she had handled worse, of course, and could take care of herself, but Sulu was less confident in the Russian's ability to do the same. Taking a deep, half-suffocating breath of tobacco and air, he put on a smile and lead Chekov inside, who did not seem to notice the club's shadiness and bounced beside him.

Inside was as bad as outside—not absolutely savage, but just enough so to make the hair on Sulu's neck raise in defense. They found an empty booth and occupied it, sending Scotty to the bar to order their drinks. Lights blazed, bright and multi-colored, on the dance floor, where scantily clad women danced with greedy, greasy men with big rings and sunglasses. Sulu wanted to pull Chekov closer—the boy seemed eager to get up and dance, which Sulu was not about to let him do—but the move would bring on questions and probably drama and he only wanted to enjoy himself tonight.

Scotty returned with drinks and conversation was loud, boisterous, and happy, commenting on everything from spaceship tactics to the weather to stories about the Earth each grew up on. Chekov avidly contributed to said stories with tales of Russian summers and long classroom days and his enlistment in Star Fleet. Sulu listened to the slightly intoxicated youth, fascinated by the animated influxes in his tone and the energy in his face when he spoke of his home country. In the middle of listening to Uhura speak of her grandmother's disapproval of her own enlistment, a tall, swaggering man made his way to their table, slamming his hand down and effectively silencing the group.

"Hey, sweetheart," he said thickly, hungry eyes ravaging Chekov. "Hows about I take you home?" Chekov looked shocked.

"I-I-I—"

"No." Sulu's hard gaze met the stranger's, and the drunken man stumbled off to find easier jailbait.

"Men," Uhura sighed, and Scotty chuckled, but Sulu was on the defensive.

The rest of the night was spent fending off slimeballs, but Sulu ultimately enjoyed himself. He laughed and delighted in hearing the younger boy do the same, cracking jokes and telling stories and letting the warmth of alcohol settle in his stomach. Finally, the lights and music were beginning to give them headaches and they decided to depart.

"I vill catch up, I must use ze bathroom," Chekov announced, and Sulu let him leave worriedly.

The young Russian made his way through close, sweating bodies and smoky lights to the men's bathroom. Of course, his bladder's needs were present, but on the bottom of his list. He just had to get out of Sulu's sight so he could gather his nerves—tonight, he told himself, was the night. Tonight he would admit his feelings for his best friend and pray for acceptance over rejection. Tonight, he needed every ounce of courage he could conjure.

The music pounded steadily, the heavy bass settling into his bones like a drug, smoke hazing up his vision. He stood there for a few minutes, leaning against a wall, mentally preparing himself. He took a deep breath, half nicotine, half oxygen, and set off in the way his friends had gone. He went out the door, drawing cool, polluted night air into his lungs, and turned the corner, heading down the alleyway to the main street. His determined spirits wavered only slightly when he saw the group of rough men smoking around the garbage bin.

He looked down, focusing intently on his feet. His shirt now felt far too tight to be appropriate and suddenly he was very, very conscious of his hands.

"Hey sweetie, how's it going?" one of the men called as he neared them, an ugly glint in his eyes. The others were smiling—no, not smiling; smirking. They took a few steps toward him but he ignored them, moving to the far side of the alley and walking quickly.

"C'mon darling, talk to us! We just want to have a good night," another called, grease in his voice. Chekov had almost reached them and he was trying harder and harder to ignore their advances and the fact that the one who had spoken first was almost directly in his path.

"We said, _talk to us!_" he spat, grabbing Chekov's wrist and dragging him so close to himself the boy could smell the filth and liquor on his breath. Suddenly the warmth of vodka that had buzzed in his stomach earlier froze into an ice pit, and he found he could not breathe, and the stranger was trying to kiss him and Chekov was struggling, struggling…

He broke away, flinging himself forward to try and escape the dark alley. Another of the men grabbed him, and then another, and in a flurry of hands and cigarettes, Chekov was caught.

Sulu paced, wearing a hole in the sidewalk. Surely Chekov would be back by now, unless he was sick? Sulu had, against his request, waited for him, because someone that small and lovely simply could not be left alone in a shady bar at night, and now Sulu was worried. Worried because the men smoking by the garbage bin had hit on both Sulu and Uhura, and he thought they might have left, but he wasn't sure and what if they did something to Pavel--?

That was the last thought in his head as he took off down the alley, jogging. He kicked up dust but he didn't care. He quickened his pace and rounded a turn in the road and froze.

Chekov, restrained. Chekov, beaten. Chekov, crying gently with pants half pulled down and torn.

Sulu was just in time to see the big, disgusting one unzip his pants.

He broke.

He ran at the man, tackling him to the ground. He punched him once, twice, and again, before he himself took a hit to the face and was thrown backwards by the force of it. He stood, but launched himself at his opponent again, fists doubling as they hit his stomach, back, neck. He noticed then that another man is coming toward him, the last one restraining Chekov. He head butted that one in the stomach, kicking him in the head while he was down. Finally the last one let the small Russian go, and ran at Sulu, pinning him to the ground.

"RUN PAVEL!" he screamed desperately, his voice carrying thickly above the smoke and dust and alcohol. Chekov looked terrified, eyes as wide as a dear's in headlights, and they hurt to look at.

He took off running but, to Sulu's dismay, his first opponent had recovered and ran after him, punching him in the face and presumably knocking him out.

Sulu remembered little else but flesh and blood after that.

Finally, he picked up Chekov's beautiful body in his arms, beaming back to the ship and rushing him to sickbay.

He would not forget a single one of those three faces.

**AN: IF I GET TEN REVIEWS FOR THIS CHAPTER, I WILL POST THE NEXT ONE! But not until then! Critiques welcome, flames ignored.**


	2. Chapter 2

**AN:: Wow, I didn't expect such an explosive reaction! I'm glad everyone likes it so far and here's the next chapter, as promised, although it's pretty short. Thanks guys!**

Sulu slept in a dead way. He collapsed on his biobed and fell asleep almost instantly, dreamless but for the sense of anguish he carried with him even in sleep. When he awoke the next morning, he felt as though he could have continued sleeping all day and, probably, forever.

He should have been happy. The doctor had told him no one had touched Pavel and that should have made him relieved.

But the deer-in-headlights face was plastered to the inside of his eyelids and he couldn't help but feel uneasy as he walked to sickbay, before even changing or showering or combing his ruffled, unruly black hair.

He found he had never felt so nervous visiting Pavel ever before.

The doors opened with a quiet '_woosh_' and he stepped in, nodding to a nurse. Said nurse pointed to further back in sickbay, and he smiled grimly in thanks, heading that direction. He found the doctor before he found Chekov.

"Mr. Sulu," he said in greeting, receiving a "Doctor" in reply.

"You're welcome to see him but I warn you, he's not quite…himself. Pretty shaken up, I'd say, but maybe you can fix that, he's always preferred your company. Just don't overwork the kid," he instructed quickly before turning away. Sulu was sure he would do no such thing, but he took the doctor's advice to heart regardless, advancing on the last biobed.

His heart dropped like lead into his knees when he approached. Chekov had seen him and had jumped nearly out of the bed in what Sulu could only assume was fright.

"Pavel," he said softly, moving to the side of the bed. Chekov looked down, staring unseeingly at his blanket. "How are you doing?" he asked gently, worry seeping from his tone. Chekov didn't not look up and Sulu thought he knew that this was what McCoy meant. Shaken up, indeed.

"Come on, Pavel, I've been worried about you. Talk to me, please," he asked, barely keeping the desperation from his voice. He wanted nothing more than reassurance that Pavel was alright, but he quickly found that he wouldn't get that here.

He could only stay for about five minutes. Pavel occasionally shook his head, but not in reply to anything Sulu had said. His eyes remained downcast, empty, and it shook Sulu's insides to their core to see him like that.

Finally, he left, but stopped to talk to Doctor McCoy first.

"Doctor, is this behavior, um…normal? For this situation?" he asked uneasily, anxious for a positive answer.

McCoy looked grave and didn't answer right away, instead searching Sulu with his strikingly blue eyes.

"Maybe, Mr. Sulu. Maybe. Think about it: all of his innocence—_all_ of it—gone. Just like that, and ripped from him in ways it never should be. Would you be okay, Sulu?"

And Sulu thought that yes, he would be, because he had not been innocent in a long time. All he could think was that he didn't want Chekov to crash down to that same level because he was simply too beautiful to hurt.

---

He exited sickbay and was surprised to nearly literally run into Captain Kirk upon rounding the corner.

"Captain," he said, and his voice was strained.

Kirk nodded in greeting, but stopped the Asian when he tried to go around him.

"Sulu, I have to talk to you." His tone dripped with worry and Sulu's replying 'Sir?' echoed it.

"I'm concerned about the kid," he said bluntly, "He's not like you and me, y'know. Seventeen…and I'll bet he never even had a girlfriend, too busy studying up to get into Starfleet as early as he did. He just wasn't used to people, Sulu, not people like _them._" He spat the word as if it would poison him to swallow, and Sulu thought he understood.

"Yes, Captain," was his dead answer.

"Hey, listen, Sulu. The kid thinks a lot of you," he began, but cut off Sulu's skeptical gaze. "He does, probably way more than you know. You're his best friend, and I want you to fix him."

It could have been the way he worded it, or maybe his tone of urgency and desperation. Whatever it was, Sulu found his eyes squeezed tightly shut, forcing back tears, and he was thankful the captain did not touch him, did not put a hand to his shoulder, because his fists were balled up with violence.

"I have relieved him from duty temporarily… 'temporarily' being until he is back to being himself. I'm counting on you, y'know. No one else can do it, it has to be you, but I promise the entire crew is going to do their best. He deserves it."

Sulu couldn't find words, although he opened his eyes now. Kirk's blue eyes twinkled with sincerity and Sulu was thankful, above all else.

Chekov has friends, and he has Sulu, and they will not give up.

**AN:: Short chapter, yes, I'm sorry. The next one may be short too but things are going to start happening, promiiiise. **

**So I feel the need to let you in on my personal life a bit. is strictly off-limits for me according to my mother and I have to carefully edit my history in order to post this at all and I must get on only when she's gone. So now you know.**

**Also, it has been expressed that people feel 'put off' by my begging for reviews. In hopes that it will do some measure of good, let me explain my mindset behind this: I do not write just for the sheer joy of writing, although that is a part of it. If I did, I probably wouldn't even post my writing online. As it is, I write for the purpose of improving. Or rather, I post my work online for the purpose of improving. Many people read, and enjoy, but don't comment or review. Many people have helpful critique and choose not to share it. I refuse to post without reviews because I refuse to continue posting when I am unsure of my audience's reactions. I want to read about how you feel while reading so I know where I am going wrong and how to change it. I want you to feel a certain way and I write accordingly—if you don't review, I won't know how you felt when reading my work.**

**So, that said, the next chapter will, as promised, come after your ten reviews. Again, critique is welcomed, and flames are ignored. I am capable of differentiating between harsh critique and flames, so don't worry. Thanks.**


	3. Chapter 3

Sulu headed to the bridge, heart still thudding in his toes from seeing his bright, happy, bouncy friend lying in sickbay, crushed and empty. Pavel had always seemed so _impervious _to the world's cruelty, unable to let its discouragement keep him down, happy to ignore its crude humor. Sulu had almost taken it for granted that Pavel would always be this way.

To have this image torn from him in the form of wide, empty, blue-green eyes was almost too much.

On duty, life went on as normal. The maelstrom raging in the Asian's heart, mind, and stomach went unnoticed and he buried himself in the work he was given. The new navigator was female, a dull girl with mousy hair and small eyes. Sulu had never felt so lonely with any girl before.

Try as he might, it was stoutly impossible for him to push thoughts of Pavel from his overwhelmed mind. To his dismay, not every thought was pure—some were selfish, upset because everything he had been working for with the Russian was now being catapulted backwards, and these thoughts sickened him. He pushed them away vehemently, knowing they were not what was important just then.

His shift stretched onward and he struggled to perform at his best, pretending Pavel's doe-eyes were not present just beneath the surface of his skin but hoping they would still be there when his shift ended. At long last, it did just that, and he practically sprinted to the mess hall. Filling two trays, he hurried toward sickbay, and if anyone thought this behavior to be odd, they said nothing.

_Woosh._

Bones didn't even look up from his paperwork.

"He's awake," he said, his voice strained slightly. Everyone who knew him loved Pavel. It was hard for even the bitter doctor to see him that way. Sulu walked to his bed, setting one tray down on the table next to him. Pavel didn't look at him when he came in. He stared with a hollow gaze at sterile walls, and the way not even his eyelashes fluttered when Sulu walked in broke his heart.

It would seem that was happening a lot, lately.

"Hey, Pav," he greeted gently, setting his own tray next to the first. Oddly, his appetite had diminished entirely as soon as he set eyes on the teenager's face.

Said teenager blinked slowly and averted his gaze to his lap.

"I brought you lunch…you really need to eat, you know, or you'll never get out of this place," he said, although the joke in his voice barely surfaced. He noticed Pavel's gray-green eyes slide slightly to view some point to Sulu's right, and he felt his heart sag at the realization that the thin man would not meet his gaze.

"How are you feeling today?" he asked, not expecting an answer. He watched Pavel carefully, noticing the way his eyes sparked alive for a split-second with something Sulu could only discern as remorse. It was gone as soon as he caught it, and the darker haired male was at a loss to explain it.

"Pavel, please…," he said, voice barely above a whisper. "Please let me know you're alright. _Please_."

He reached out without thinking to touch Pavel's shoulder, but as soon as contact was made the Russian flinched violently. Sulu whipped his hand back at the gut-wrenching sight, though all he wanted was to pull Pavel toward him and hold him and never let go.

He continued to make failed attempts at conversation, wanting only to get some kind of reaction out of Pavel. What did you ask someone who was nearly raped? But Sulu did not let his resolve falter.

"Pavel, tell me about Russia." It was the first thing that came to mind and he was surprised he hadn't thought about it before. Usually Pavel spoke about Russia entirely unprompted, and it was Sulu's hope that mention of his homeland would elicit an answer.

The reaction he received was unexpected, and that was a blatant understatement.

Pavel jerked his head in Sulu's direction, still not meeting his eyes. He looked angry, angrier than Sulu had ever seen him. The emotion did not sit well on the Russian's face, all angles and furrowed brows and frown lines, and it made Sulu's stomach churn to have it thrown at him.

"You vant to hear about Russia? In Russia, I may be killed on ze street for attracting zat kind of attention."

His words were poisonous, but his tone was hoarse, strained, and held only a trace of the potency of his statement. His eyes were alive for a split second with the same emotion that had sparked before, and Sulu was at a loss.

"I'm…I'm sorry, Pavel. I'm sorry."

Sulu could bring himself to say no more before leaving, glancing painfully at his broken best friend and exiting sickbay.

In his quarters, Sulu slid down the wall and sat, helpless to fend off his emotions. Pavel's eyes, Pavel's lips, Pavel's words…

Words.

_Russia._

He was not sure how it happened, but he was suddenly aware of a plan formulating in the back of his skull, and he did not sleep that night.

**AN: This chapter is late, I'm very sorry. School started recently and with school comes clubs and activities, as well as homework, and I've been swallowed. **

**Someone expressed their opinion that Kirk would possibly be a totally insensitive ass about the situation. It's an interesting possibility, but I believe that Kirk would have developed protective feelings over Chekov especially after he saved his and Sulu's lives in Reboot. He is such an adorable thing in Reboot, I'm sure most of the crew share this feeling of protection. This is only my perception of course. :)**

**I believe also that Chekov would not simply bounce back from this, as was also conveyed. It's only my perception and I will write accordingly, but I think it would be a huge shock for him especially considering his intentions that night.**

**Please note that I am NOT trying to paint Russia as a negative image, and not all Russians would kill you for being gay, I promise. Probably, things in the future will be much better with Russia. However, I did want him to be affected by his homeland somewhat, so I am writing it like this for that reason.**

**[LONG AUTHOR NOTE IS LONG, SORRY]**

**Also: Short chapter, I KNOW AND I AM SO SORRY! Unfortunately the next chapter might be short too BUT plans will be planned and things will start happening within the next two or three chapters, promise. Hang in there, and get your 10 reviews in. Thank you! **


	4. Chapter 4

It was most ironic that Sulu was actually _smiling_ on his way to sickbay. All things considered, it was equally illogical, but he failed to care. His stride was not a stride but a bounce, his arms swinging at his sides.

He should not have been so _happy._

Regardless, he found that he was unable to stop himself. For the past four days he had been praying to anyone who would listen that Pavel would show some sign of improvement, however small. Maybe it would be a willingness to look Sulu in the eye, or maybe a few words. As it turned out, it was food. The previous night, Pavel had finally started eating again, and McCoy had decided that this was grounds for letting him return to his quarters.

As thankful as everyone was for this small light, the doctor assured anyone who would listen that, although this was good, it was not exactly a leap nor a bound. He stressed that much progress was still to be made and that this must not be forgotten. Sulu, however, was momentarily satisfied by this one improvement, and he would not let the cynical doctor ruin his mood. He continued toward sickbay; McCoy had requested that Sulu escort Chekov to his quarters in the morning, which Sulu was more than happy to do and might have done even if he hadn't been asked. Even in his current state, Pavel's company meant more to Sulu than anything else he could be given, and he could only pray that the same was true for the Russian.

He arrived at sickbay and the soft _whoosh_ of the doors revealed Dr. McCoy's permanently frowning face, currently directed at a PADD he held in his hand. He looked up when Sulu entered and nodded.

"Good morning Doctor," he greeted, grin still plastered stupidly to his face. McCoy rolled his eyes and lead the way to the last bed. Chekov sat on the edge, clad in a clean, whole uniform minus the boots, face dead but washed. He did not look up when the two arrived.

"Well Chekov, you can go. Just be sure to keep eating and take care of yourself, kid," the doctor instructed, although he elicited no reaction from the boy. "Just come on over when you're ready." For being such a bitter, sarcastic person, McCoy had a fair bit of insight when it counted, and he and Sulu walked back to the entrance and waited for Chekov to gather himself and accompany them.

"Sulu," said McCoy as soon as they stopped, "I want you to continue to bring Chekov his meals until he starts to do it on his own. I'm not sure when that will be." This last comment was honest and worried, and the mood was infectious, darkening Sulu's sunny feelings at once.

"Doctor…," he began, "how do you think…that is, what do you think the best approach would be to help him?" The words felt bizarre on his tongue but he didn't care how he worded it as long as McCoy understood and was willing to help him, willing to help Chekov. The doctor, however, only stared at him, through him. Sulu was not sure he could take this examination and went on to tell him about the Russia outburst, and when he had finished McCoy's eyes darkened.

"This might sound a little weird, but I think…I think that kid might actually feel _dirty_ over this." He wasn't looking at Sulu anymore and Sulu's eyes widened as the small, missing pieces of his plan sunk into place.

"But, dammit, I'm a doctor, not a therapist," he amended, shaking his head. "There's my opinion, take it or leave it. Here he comes."

Sulu turned his head to see Pavel walking toward them, although the word should have been 'limping.' He didn't have a physical limp, but you could tell his body was dragging his mind with it as he advanced on them. His shoulders were drooped forward slightly and he looked very much like a dog that had simply been kicked past its breaking point. His big, green-blue eyes were still flat, and looking at them drove Sulu crazy. He wanted to run over and shake the boy until that spark came back, kiss him until he couldn't _not_ look Sulu in the eyes, hold him until he fell asleep smiling. It was by some divine miracle that Sulu stayed rooted to the spot and did not move until the doctor bade them goodbye.

"So, how are you feeling today, Pavel?" Sulu asked, knowing this would not get a single thing out of him. It was almost the exact same question he's been putting forth since day one, earning only a slight variation each day he recycled it. On no occasion had Pavel answered. Today was no different. The two walked slowly through the halls to a turbolift

"Bet that place is horrid long-term," he attempted again, leaning against the lift wall as they waited to reach their stop. Pavel stood silently, looking crumpled. Sulu's heart fell again and he wondered when it would hit rock-bottom.

With a quiet _whoosh,_ the door opened, allowing for exit. Sulu walked out ahead of Pavel, barely resisting the urge to grab his hand out of a need to comfort. Pavel followed solemnly. Silence fell on them like a boulder, and Sulu was growing increasingly worried. His previous mood had been wiped out by the doctor and it was becoming substantially worse with every quiet footstep the two took together. Finally, however, they reached Chekov's quarters, which were adjoined by a bathroom to Sulu's. Sulu did not forget to thank his lucky stars for this fact.

The door slid open and Pavel walked in unprompted.

"Do you…want me to stay?" Sulu asked, desperately hoping the answer was yes. When his answer was a sad headshake and a closing door, the Asian felt as though he could cry had his tears not run out the day of Pavel's attack.

But he could not cry. He had things to do. He had Pavel to save.

He would do it. He gave himself no choice.

He turned on his heel.

-+-+-+-

His next stop was Spock's quarters. He did not feel like seeing or speaking to his first officer, but he knew that Kirk had just gotten off duty and would probably be heading there to play chess. He needed a word with his captain.

The tall blonde was just rounding a corner when Sulu caught sight of him. He yelled his name, causing Kirk to pause.

"Captain, may I have a word?" Sometimes Sulu wondered why he even asked anymore. Of course he could have a word, or even a few, and no one cared, but maybe that's just how he was raised.

"It's about Pavel, sir," he informed, and Kirk's eyes took on a look of interest and understanding that Sulu thought looked most odd on his features. In a few hurried sentences, Sulu filled in the captain on Pavel's comment about Russia and his conversation with Bones.

"And so I think maybe if he sees that there's a huge distinction between what those _bastards_—" Sulu spit the word as if it were poisoned"—had planned for him and actual male-to-male _love_, then he'd feel…I don't know…more at ease with himself? What do you think?" he finished, watching Kirk's face carefully for approval or rejection. His eyebrows were knit in thought, and he wasn't looking at Sulu but rather over his shoulder. After a few seconds, he broke into a slow grin, blue eyes twinkling.

"Mr. Sulu, I have just the idea. But I'll have to talk to a certain someone first. We'll talk more tomorrow but I think that just might work," he said enthusiastically, clapping Sulu on the shoulder. Sulu could not help but imagine Kirk's hand as Pavel's for the second it touched him.

With that, his commanding officer maneuvered around him, heading down the hall to Spock's quarters. Satisfied with his efforts momentarily, Sulu decided to return to his quarters.

If his plan worked…

But he couldn't let himself think that. He had to wait and see. His footsteps sounded lonely by themselves and with copper-sand hair and doe eyes on the mind, he decided to cut through Pavel's quarters to get to his own.

_Whoosh._

Suddenly his heart was in his mouth and he couldn't feel his feet as he stepped forward, step-step-step-step toward the bed.

Pavel—his beautiful Pavel—sleeping. But it was the way he was sleeping that caught Sulu's heartbeat. The pale Russian was not relaxed, the way one should be when asleep. Indeed, he hardly even looked asleep. He was curled into a tight ball, knees drawn uncomfortably up to his chin, arms wrapped around them, muscles tensed. His eyebrows were drawn together in discontent, stress obvious in his every feature.

Sulu had to again resist the urge to touch him, to crawl into bed and wrap his arms around him in the hopes that at least in sleep Pavel could have peace.

"Pavel…" Sulu's voice was strained and quiet. He shook his head, turning to leave.

This plan must work.

There was simply no other way.

**AN:: Someone was confused about Chekov's comment in the last chapter about Russia. What I meant was, if he had been in Russia and that had happened, it is possible that someone could have thought, 'He attracts men in a dirty way, he is a homosexual, blah blah blah' and that person might have beaten him up for it or possibly killed him. I may have exaggerated that statement, I'm not very familiar with Russia and that comment stemmed mostly from what I read about Russia's army and the way homosexuals are looked at there. Sorry for the confusion and again, I don't mean to offend.**

**Also: I can't get on often enough to reply individually to reviews. If I think it's important or merits an answer, I will respond in an author's note.**


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